I Used to be Decoratey

Who doesn't love a peek into a fabulous home? I see them daily in blogville and I swoon and drool with the best of 'em.

Very rarely I stumble on one that truly speaketh my language. And stumble I did, just last week. I flipped end-over-end for my friend Lara's digs. I wanted to sneak in and sit up on her perfectly craggy bar-stools. I yearned to spin the windmill with my own claw-like hand. I pined for horse photography. I wished for a last name that started with a B.

This is the cool thing about "gussying up", whether it be one's home or one's own, personal bod. Different cloaks for different folks.

I'll confess straight up - I have worn the same t-shirt thrice in one week, and I don't care who knows it. Well, I would really prefer that Tim Gunn remain in the dark on this one, but everyone else - come and get me. I dare you to call me unimaginative or misguided.

As for my home, it's working its way out of a bit of a stale era itself, partly on account of this:



Toldja.

For the rest of the story, go here and tell Lara that she really is the cat's meow.

Then whisper a little prayer for me. My favorite t-shirt is dirty and I just don't know what I'll wear tomorrow...